


boy with love

by lilcrickee



Category: Men's Hockey RPF
Genre: Accidental Baby Acquisition, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-26
Updated: 2019-06-26
Packaged: 2020-05-20 00:46:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 17,077
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19366870
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lilcrickee/pseuds/lilcrickee
Summary: “Oh no,” Brock murmurs, the reality of the situation sinking in. It’s 11 o’clock in the middle of the offseason and he’s holding a baby. The baby is his. Brock is 22 and has a baby and the mother has run off to work on a cruise ship.





	boy with love

**Author's Note:**

  * In response to a prompt by Anonymous in the [PuckingRare2019](https://archiveofourown.org/collections/PuckingRare2019) collection. 



> this is for maddy, who wanted a fic about brock having a baby. thank you muchly for looking over this story and for weathering all my crises while i wrote it <3
> 
> also, thank you to my tl for being hyped about this fic. i hope it doesn't disappoint you too much!
> 
> title is from the bts song _boy with luv (ft. halsey)_

The day starts like any other.

Brock wakes up, splashes some water on his face, and goes downstairs to make breakfast. He cracks two eggs into a non-stick pan and puts two slices of multigrain toast into the toaster. Food gets dumped into Coolie’s bowl, which the dog happily snuffles up. Sunlight filters in through the windows. It's summer in Minnesota, and even though Brock's hands itch to hold a stick again, his bones craving the ice, he likes this too.

It's still technically morning when the doorbell rings. Brock frowns at his phone; he'd been texting Bo about how to find a cleaner for his house when he goes back to Vancouver. He's not expecting anyone, but there's been more than one occasion when Brock's drunkenly ordered something on Amazon and had it show up a few days later.

So Brock goes to open the door. He's wearing basketball shorts and a threadbare t-shirt and his hair is a little wild looking. It's fine, though. He's expecting the delivery man.

What he finds instead is a baby.

 

 

The baby is being held by Brock's mother and it's a girl. Her name is apparently Briar, and there is a birth certificate and a paternity test that state Brock is the father.

It's unexpected.

“Are you sure this is my baby?” Brock asks. He's sitting on one of the barstools at the kitchen island, holding Briar. She is so, so tiny and delicate looking. Brock cradles her in his arms carefully.

“All the paperwork says you are,” his mother replies. She's cooking herself some breakfast: eggs and toast, just like Brock. Brock's suddenly glad that he ate before; he doubts he'd have any sort of appetite now. “Besides, we've looked after her for the past three months. You can't take away my grandchild now.”

There's a hint of bitterness in her voice, a touch of disappointment. Brock looks down at the sleeping baby in his arms again and feels guilty.

“Why didn't you tell me about her sooner?” he asks. His mother dumps her eggs onto a plate and retrieves her toast from the toaster. She comes to sit beside Brock at the table, gazing fondly at Briar before turning back to her breakfast.

“What would you have done if we'd told you?” she asks. “You still had three and a half months of hockey left. Would you have come home to take care of her?”

In January, the Canucks were still staring down a chance at the playoffs. Things weren't quite hopeless yet, and the future looked bright and attainable. With the way things had turned out, Brock probably could've come home and it wouldn't have mattered much.

But the fact of the matter is that he wouldn't have given up three months of hockey, and both he and his mom knew that.

“Where's her mother?” he asks instead. If he's remembering correctly, they'd met at a bar. She had just graduated from college and was job hunting. Something in hospitality.

“Oh I don't know. On a cruise ship, galavanting across the globe or something like that.” Brock doesn't have to look to know his mom is rolling her eyes.

“That sounds -- interesting?”

Brock's mom snorts. Little Briar gurgles a little, waving her arms around a little wildly. Brock tickles her stomach to make her giggle.

“I made it sound worse than it is,” his mother admits, pushing around the last of her eggs. “She got a job as a concierge on a cruise ship. Couldn't take the baby with her, and figured you'd be able to provide a better life for her anyway.”

“I'm a 22-year-old hockey player,” Brock complains. “How on earth could I do a better job at parenting?”

Brock's mom just rubs her fingers together, letting imaginary bills flutter to the tabletop. This time, Brock rolls his eyes.

It’s true that -- financially -- he could support a child better than someone else his age, but Brock isn’t _mentally_ prepared for a baby. He loves his nephew, but he can give him back to his sister at the end of the day. Briar is his to keep and take care of and --

“Oh no,” Brock murmurs, the reality of the situation sinking in. It’s 11 o’clock in the middle of the offseason and he’s holding a baby. The baby is his. Brock is 22 and has a baby and the mother has run off to work on a cruise ship.

“Oh no indeed,” Brock’s mom says sagely, and pats him on the shoulder.

 

 

Brock’s house becomes baby-proofed after that.

Brock tucks all the loose cords from his game console into the entertainment unit so that Briar won’t pull on them. He cleans up all the random stuff on his coffee table, including the weird stash of international money he’s been keeping for no reason. He buys a big fluffy blanket when he and his mom go into town and lays it on the floor for Briar to crawl around on, and he fills it with more stuffed animals than he’s seen in a long time.

“Does she need this many stuffed animals?” his mom asks as Briar crawls around on the blanket, dragging a rabbit toy behind her. It seems to be her favourite and Brock’s dubbed it _Softie Bunny_ because he’s dumb and sappy like that.

“Her mom left her with me because I can provide for her!” Brock replies. If he pouts a little, he won’t admit it.

“Yes. Necessities, Brock. You have an entire zoo on the floor right now.”

“Yeah, and I’ll make sure to build an ark when it rains,” Brock says dryly. He picks up an elephant at the edge of the blanket and waves its arm at his mom. “Look how cute he is! I couldn’t resist.”

His mom just shakes her head.

He does get around to buying the necessities though. He gets a crib set up in one of the spare bedrooms, and a high chair installed by the kitchen table. There’s also a stroller folded up by the front door.

But most importantly, there’s a sizeable dent in Brock’s wallet.

“Why couldn’t you have just given me the stuff that you guys have?” Brock whines as his mother folds all of Briar’s clothes -- old and new -- and neatly puts them in the dresser in the guest room. In Briar’s room, now, Brock figures.

“What would we do when we babysit for you?” his mom retorts. “Also, are you going to ship all of this to Vancouver after or just buy more stuff there?”

Brock groans. Briar giggles at the noise and claps her hands, smacking Brock in the neck in the process.

“Maybe you should just buy some more stuff,” his mom says, like she isn’t relishing the idea of getting to go shopping for cute decorations all over again. “Because what are you going to do in the offseason? Ship it all back here? And you can’t spend every day at the lake … “

Brock tunes her out and instead pays attention to Briar. She’s got a tuft of light brown hair that Brock hopes will lighten up as she gets older. Her eyes are a soft, even blue colour. She’s got a cute button nose and small lips, but a huge smile. Brock may be biased, but he thinks she’s pretty cute. Not all babies are cute, but his certainly is.

“Are you even listening to me?”

Oops. Brock grins sheepishly, and Briar mimics his expression, laughing gleefully when Brock tickles her sides. Whatever else his mother might be trying to say to him gets lost in cute giggles and loud shrieking laughter.

 

 

The days pass by in a bit of a blur, but by the end of the week, Brock thinks he’s got an okay handle on everything. He’d been worried before, but the only thing that’s really tripped Brock up is that if he wants to take Coolie for a walk now he has to take Briar too, and what a production that is.

“This isn’t so bad,” Brock says aloud. His mother glares at him from where she’s pouring baby formula into individual bottles.

“You say that now,” she says, “but Dad and I are going home on Wednesday. What are you going to do then?”

Brock feels the blood drain out of his face. He feels a bit lightheaded. “You’re going home?” he asks, sitting up and turning around. He wants to shout, but Briar finally fell asleep and Brock doesn’t want to wake her up. “What about your granddaughter?”

“What about our granddaughter?” his mom replies. “We saw her for three months straight.”

“Fine, what about _me_?”

His mother has the audacity to laugh. “Afraid you’ll be lonely?” she asks. “You have a baby, now. And a dog.”

As if on cue, Coolie wags his tail against the hardwood floor. Brock glares at him.

“Aren’t you afraid that I’ll kill one of them?” Brock asks. “I’m not fit to look after other living souls.”

“Oh please. You’ve had Coolie for over a year now and I’ll even go so far as to say that he’s pretty well behaved.”

There’s panic settling in Brock’s gut, a hot stone of worry that burns the longer it sits. “Maybe I should come back with you,” he blurts out, running a hand nervously through his hair.

There’s an evil glint in his mother’s eye when she looks up from the baby bottles. All of their lids are screwed on tight now. Brock will just need to heat them up when Briar needs one.

“Oh, honey,” she says, overly sweet, saccharine. “Don’t you have a guest coming?”

 

 

It’s the middle of June. It’s the middle of June, and that means that in a week, Elias is coming to stay with Brock at the lake.

He’d invited Elias a while ago -- unofficially near the beginning of the season when Brock kept telling Elias all about his summer and how next offseason “you should come, you should totally come!”, and then officially near the end of the season. Elias had smiled coyly and shrugged a shoulder, as if he was going to keep Brock hanging while he “considered his options”. But at the beginning of June, Elias had called and said he’d stop by after the NHL Awards if that was okay, and Brock had said yes, but now. Now Brock has a baby.

Said baby is crawling around on the blanket that’s perpetually spread across the living room floor. Briar is curious and happy to explore, which means that Brock is continually following her around and making sure she doesn’t hit her head on the ends of tables or the corner of shelves. He’s even fashioned homemade corner guards out of pool noodles that he’s had kicking around in the mudroom, duct taped haphazardly to any edges Briar even seems to wander towards. It ruins the aesthetic of the lake house, and it’s not like Brock tries to impress anyone that comes and stays over but he was hoping to at least leave the impression of _cool bachelor pad on the lake_ on all his guests.

He’s thinking that Elias probably won’t pick up on the vibe.

At any rate, having Elias visit makes Brock nervous. It's not that Elias would chew him out for bad life choices, but his primary default in English is to come across as a little stand off-ish and occasionally like an asshole. It's not that Elias is mean, but Elias learned a lot of English from the locker room where the official dialect is chirping so.

Brock is a little concerned.

But it's too late to tell Elias he can't come, and not without a good reason for it, too. Elias would probably judge him harder if Brock cancelled and didn't tell him the reason was because he wound up with a surprise baby this summer.

He sits on this dilemma while his mom packs the small suitcase she'd brought when she'd shown up with Briar two weeks ago.

“You're going to be fine,” his mom repeats for the thousandth time. At this point, Brock isn't sure if she's saying it to reassure him or herself. “Consider this your trial run. You're going to be mostly by yourself in Vancouver so you might as well get used to it now when we're only an hour or so away.”

“I have Coolie,” Brock hears himself say, as if from a great distance away. He feels a little detached, like his anxiety has just built up so much that his brain has decided to vacate the premises for the foreseeable future. He's holding Briar while she snoozes in his arms, and he barely registers the added weight.

“Yes, and I'm sure Coolie will be a great help to you changing diapers,” his mom says, rolling her eyes fondly. Coolie whines from his spot under the open lid of the suitcase.

“Mom,” Brock whines, but it must come out much more pathetic than he’d hoped, because his mom puts down the shirt she’d been folding and comes over to where Brock’s been hovering on the other side of the bed. She wraps one arm around his waist and presses a kiss to Briar’s head.

“I wouldn’t be leaving you with Briar if I didn’t think you could handle it,” she says quietly, so as not to wake the sleeping baby. “And I wouldn’t be talking about Vancouver if I didn’t think you wouldn’t be able to take care of her there too. We’re not throwing you to the wolves, Brock. We just want you to have this opportunity to raise your child. It’s tough, but rewarding, and I think you’ll be a very good father.”

Brock feels tears pool in his eyes. He’s always wanted kids, but not quite like this. This is what he has though: a surprise baby and a dog that’s still mostly a puppy, and a lake house that will soon have another guest. It’s not what Brock had planned for himself, but life rarely ends up that way anyway. Vancouver wasn’t what he’d planned either, but he loves the city now. Things turned out fine there, so they’ll probably turn out with Briar too.

“Okay,” he mumbles, kissing the top of his mom’s head. Briar shifts in his arms but continues to sleep. “Okay.”

 

 

**[x]**

 

 

Things go downhill very quickly after Brock’s mother leaves.

Briar cries. A lot. She hadn’t when his mom was here, but now it seems like all she does is sleep, eat, and cry. It makes Brock feel bad, like she misses his mom and Brock is not a good enough substitute, which makes sense. Briar spent the first three months of her life with his parents, and now she’s being thrust into the arms of a veritable stranger. Brock would probably be a little upset too. Still, he goes through a multitude of things to try and placate her: feeding her, bouncing her, rocking her, sticking the pacifier in her mouth, giving her a stuffed animal to hold. One time he even shoves Coolie into her arms, which just makes his dog whine pathetically.

“If all children are like this, you’re going to be my only one,” Brock mutters to Briar as he feeds her a bottle. “You’re so noisy when you’re sad. Please don’t be sad anymore.”

Briar makes a muffled noise, but thankfully continues to drink her formula.

Any sort of summer routine that Brock had before Briar is quickly thrown by the wayside. He sleeps at random intervals of the day, eats whenever Briar is asleep, and tries to get Coolie outside every once in a while so he can go to the bathroom and not die from boredom. His mom calls every day, and Brock figures it’s mostly just to make sure that everyone is still alive, and while Brock can placate her on the phone, there’s not much to be done for his own panic once he hangs up. He’s not really sure why he thought he’d be able to look after a dog and a baby; at this point, Brock can’t even look after himself.

One particular morning, Brock’s out on the deck, Briar in his lap and Coolie bounding around the yard excitedly. It’s barely light out, and on the cooler side for summer, so Brock’s got a blanket wrapped around them while Briar babbles incoherently about -- something. It’s the first moment of stillness Brock thinks he’s had in ages, a moment frozen in time that he can remember when Briar’s a teenager and rebelling against him.

And then his phone rings.

It pierces the silence and makes Brock jump a little, waking him up from his dream-like stupor. When he looks at the caller ID, he balks.

It’s Elias.

Brock checks the date. Elias is supposed to be here in two days.

He almost forgets to answer the phone, he’s so surprised, but at the last minute Brock swipes on the call and brings the phone up to his ear. “Uh, hi,” he says, then squints at the screen again. “Isn’t it early where you are?”

Elias’ laugh sounds tinny through the phone. “I just got back,” he replies.

“It’s three in the morning.”

“Yeah, and I’m in Las Vegas.”

This time, it’s Brock that laughs. Elias certainly isn’t as awkward and boring as the media make him out to be, but Brock can’t picture him out partying till three AM in Vegas, just because he can.

“You’re crazy,” Brock says, then tacks on, “congrats on the award, by the way.”

Elias hums a little. “Thanks,” he replies. “Better than you at something else, I guess, eh?”

“Yeah, like that’s the only thing,” Brock replies. He’s not bitter. Elias deserves the Calder, and if Brock had been healthy his whole rookie season, maybe he would’ve deserved it too. It’s in the past now, and there’s no reason to dwell on it, so he doesn’t. Instead, he bounces Briar carefully on his lap, and keeps an eye on Coolie as he inches towards the shoreline.

“So,” Elias says. There’s the sound of fabric rustling on the other end, and Brock wonders if Elias is getting changed, or pulling the covers back on the bed. “Do you need me to bring anything when I arrive?”

Brock’s certain that Elias means stuff like beer or groceries or tacky souvenirs from Las Vegas. What Brock wants to say is actual corner guards to put on all the tables, and maybe a new stuffed animal for Briar because she loves them so much. Instead, Brock says, “No, nothing at all,” and listens to Elias chatter a little as he gets ready for bed. It’s a little like listening to Briar, except Elias actually speaks whole words and sentences.

“You’re pretty quiet,” Elias comments once he’s settled into bed. “That’s unlike you.”

“You’re pretty chatty,” Brock retorts. “That’s unlike _you_.”

Elias giggles, this dumb little laugh that Brock’s grown fond of over the course of the season. It’s a hint of emotion in Elias’ otherwise calm demeanour.

“Well, yeah, but I’m drunk. What’s your excuse?”

Brock glances down at Briar in his lap. She’s fallen asleep, her tiny mouth set in a pout and her brow furrowed a little. Brock smoothes out the wrinkles with his thumb and smiles when Briar snuffles a little. She’s cute when she’s not screaming about missing Brock’s mother.

“It’s five AM,” he replies. “I’m tired.”

“Then why aren’t you sleeping?”

Brock’s not sure what exactly holds him back from telling Elias about Briar. It wouldn’t be the end of the world if Elias changed his plans and didn’t come to the house. It would just be one less person Brock would have to entertain this summer. But the idea of spending another week alone with his baby and his dog sounds isolating, and Brock thrives on social interaction. So he doesn’t mention his baby and just replies with, “Wanted to see the sunrise, I guess.”

Elias snorts. “Okay, Mr. Wilderness,” he says. “In two days, I’ll watch it with you.”

“I’ll hold you to that,” Brock says quietly before Elias ends the call. Just over the horizon, the sun begins to rise.

 

 

**[x]**

 

 

Unsurprisingly, things do not magically get better in the next two days. Briar does not manage to stop crying, but Brock likes to think that she’s been crying _less_. She’s moved towards a phase of grumpy looks and huffy sighs, that Brock would find cute if he weren’t feeling so sleep deprived.

Brock figures that the main point is that everyone is being fed, clothed, and bathed on a regular basis, which is the most important thing.

It is not, however, the state of the household when Elias finally arrives.

Brock’s at war with Briar and her bottle when the doorbell rings. There’s a stuffed giraffe lying on the floor from where Briar threw it in outrage, and she’s making grabby hands at the bunny that Brock’s holding hostage. The formula that he’d been trying to feed her is everywhere: smeared across Briar’s cheek and dribbled across the tray of her high chair.

Brock’s not wearing pants and he hasn’t showered yet, but he pulls Briar out of the chair, follows Coolie’s barking to the front door, and throws it open.

And it’s not like Brock forgot Elias was coming -- they talked on the phone _two days ago_ \-- but it’s suddenly within that very moment that Brock realizes exactly how weird everything must look to Elias.

Elias takes a long look at Brock, then cranes his head back so he can see the numbers on the side of the house. Coolie barks excitedly and tries his best to wedge himself between Elias’ legs and Briar manages to finally wrestle her bunny from Brock’s other hand.

“Is this a bad time?” Elias asks, scratching Coolie’s head. He looks -- good, which is kind of dumb because he’s just wearing a pair of cut-off shorts and a t-shirt. Maybe Brock’s just been separated from civilization for too long.

“Um,” Brock says. His face feels very hot. “I guess not?”

“Cool,” Elias replies, then adds, “So. Are you going to invite me in?”

It takes some maneuvering to get Elias and his bags into the house without stepping on Coolie and not dropping Briar. Finally, the front door is shut and Coolie is preoccupied with a ball that Brock kicks down the hallway. Elias leans against a pool noodle protected corner and unties his shoes.

“So,” Elias says, kicking his sneakers underneath Brock's shoe rack. “This looks like an interesting development.”

Brock opens and shuts his mouth. He knew he'd have to explain to Elias about Briar, but now that he actually has to do it, words refuse to come out of his mouth.

“Brock,” Elias prompts, as Coolie comes bounding back down the hallway with his ball.

Brock sighs. “Let's sit down,” he says, kicking Coolie's ball back towards the living room.

Despite the fuss earlier, Briar is relatively calm as Brock sets her down on her blanket with her stuffed rabbit. He realizes, suddenly, that he's still not wearing pants, which Elias smiles at when Brock looks down at his ugly plaid boxers.

“Can you, uh -- can you watch her for, like, two seconds while I go put some pants on?”

"Sure," Elias replies easily, like it's a perfectly normal thing for Brock to ask. Brock nods once and darts off to the bedroom in search of a pair of shorts and a shirt that Briar hasn't managed to dribble formula over.

When he comes back, Elias is sitting on the edge of the couch staring intently at Briar as she smacks her rabbit happily. She's making happy noises, despite the fact that she hadn't really eaten any of her breakfast, but Brock's not complaining.

"So," Elias says. He doesn't turn to look at Brock, just continues to watch Briar on the floor. "Are you going to catch me up?"

Brock's mouth feels incredibly dry. He has to say something; Elias isn't going to let him get away with saying about the baby in the living room. But his stomach suddenly feels full of butterflies.

As if sensing Brock's apprehension, Elias says, "You know I won't judge you like the others would."

Brock's breathing comes a little easier.

It's not that he doesn't trust his other teammates, but Brock knows them. He knows Jake would laugh and Bo would be judgemental and they'd all talk about the situation like it's a mistake.

But it's not.

For as little sleep as Brock's received the last three weeks, he can't look at Briar and see a mistake. She's loud and sometimes cranky, but Brock loves seeing her laugh. He loves watching her discover things about the world, and even though he'd never thought he'd have a kid at 22, he's not unhappy. Just extremely unprepared.

"She's mine," he says finally, wincing at the way his voice cracks.

"What's her name?"

"Briar."

"How old is she?"

Brock counts on his fingers. "Five months. She was born on January 13."

Elias nods his head, like this is all incredibly fascinating information. "She's cute," he says finally, then adds, "Also, do you have any food? I'm starving."

And just like that, the hard part is over. Elias marches past Brock into the kitchen, and Brock hurries to scoop up Briar and follow him.

The kitchen is still in a state of general disarray. Briar’s giraffe -- and half the contents of her bottle -- are still on the floor. The tray for the high chair is sitting precariously on the edge of the table from where Brock had dumped it upon Elias’ arrival. The remains of Brock’s own breakfast are sitting on the counter.

Elias puts his hands on his hips. “I knew you were a bit of a slob, but this is kind of extreme, even for you.”

Briar shrieks in delight, clapping her hands excitedly. It feels like a betrayal, so Brock blows a raspberry on her cheek in retaliation. “I was busy,” he complains, once Briar’s calmed down a bit

“Clearly,” Elias replies, rolling his eyes, but his tone is fond. He scoops up the rest of Brock’s breakfast, feeds the fruits to Coolie, and scrapes the rest of it into the bin. The dishes end up in the sink, and a cloth gets tossed across the counter to Brock. In just under a minute, Elias has managed to make Brock’s home look less like a disaster zone, something which Brock’s been unable to accomplish in the week since his mother has left.

He comes around the counter, stretching out his arms. Instinctively, Brock tries to hand the cloth back to him, which just makes Elias frown. “I want the baby, thanks,” he says dryly, and Briar shrieks again. Elias doesn’t so much as flinch, which is impressive.

“You’re the guest, though,” Brock tries. “You shouldn’t have to look after my kid.”

Elias just laughs and pretty much tugs Briar out of his arms. It makes something twist nervously in Brock’s stomach, but Elias cushions Briar in his arms like he’s done this a thousand times. Maybe he has. Brock doesn’t know.

“I also shouldn’t have to clean, but here we are,” Elias says, tickling Briar’s sides. She gurgles happily.

Brock cleans up the mess on the floor while listening to Elias tell him about his time in Vegas.

“I had to do a thing for NHL,” Elias says. “They made us try out magic tricks. It was hard.”

“Did someone saw you in half?” Brock picks up Mr. Giraffe from the floor and goes to toss him in the laundry basket. Briar immediately puts up a fuss and drops her bunny on the floor, which Elias retrieves without batting an eye.

“No. That might’ve been hard to explain if it’d gone wrong.”

Elias’ dry humour still makes Brock laugh. It’s nothing particularly funny, but Brock can’t ever really tell if Elias is joking or not, which it makes it all the more amusing.

Everything feels startlingly normal, like Brock’s stepped back in time and they’re in Vancouver and not at the lake. This feels like any pre-game conversation they’ve ever had, banter flowing easily. It helps tame of the anxiety that seems to be running rampant within Brock, kills the idea that Elias will judge him for his life choices and all the roads that led him to this moment of being young and having a baby.

For the first time since Briar showed up on his doorstep, Brock takes a deep breath and feels himself calm down.

 

 

Elias doesn’t ask any of the tough questions. He doesn’t ask where Briar’s mother is, or why Brock is suddenly looking after a baby by himself. There are no witty remarks about the pool noodles around the house, or the general disarray of all of Brock’s possessions.

Instead, Elias asks, “Which one is her favourite toy?”

He’s sitting on the floor with Briar propped up between his spread legs. There’s a veritable mound of stuffed animals in front of them, and Briar makes grabby-hands at all of them.

“She’s pretty fond of Softie Bunny,” Brock says, nodding towards the rabbit by Elias’ left knee.

Elias picks it up and shakes it in front of Briar’s face. She squeals excitedly. “Did you name it?” Elias asks, a teasing lilt to his voice.

“No, Briar did.”

Elias shoots Brock a glare and then goes back to watching Briar as she tugs on Softie Bunny’s long ears. He mumbles something to her that’s too low for Brock to hear, but makes Briar giggle.

“So, what else have you been up to this summer?” Brock asks. Coolie nudges him in the leg, so he gets up to let him outside, watching as his dog bounds down to the water to sniff around in the sand.

"Little bit of relaxing. Some training. The usual," Elias replies. "I went to Stockholm for a vacation."

Brock bobs his head. "I'd like to go," he says absently, keeping his eyes on Coolie. "Be a tourist."

"I'll show you around," Elias says, then adds, "Speaking of which, are you going to show me around your glorious lake?"

Brock glances back at Elias. He's already getting to his feet, Briar cradled in his arms with Softie Bunny clutched between her tiny fists.

They paint a nice picture together. Briar is young enough that she doesn't really have any discernible features that make her look especially like Brock. With her light hair and blue eyes, she looks like she could be Elias' baby …

… which is kind of a weird thought to have about a friend. Brock shakes his head a little and says, "Grab your shoes, then. Let's go on an adventure."

 

 

Elias lets Brock carry Briar as they traipse around the backyard, like it's a hardship to give up a wriggly, squirmy baby.

"It looks nice," Elias says, standing at the end of the dock and shielding his eyes. Coolie comes bounding up with a stick in his mouth, so Brock hands Briar back to Elias before wrestling the stick from his dog and chucking it into the water. Briar squeals excitedly when Coolie goes crashing into the lake.

"It's not bad," Brock says proudly. "You can do a bunch of stuff, though. There's fishing and wakeboarding and just chilling. Whatever you want."

Elias grins at him. "Whatever I want," he repeats, his tone thoughtful. Brock's skin tingles a little, like he's just jumped into the lake, but he chalks it up to Coolie's return. He shakes himself off, flinging water everywhere.

"Coolie," Brock complains, but his whine is drowned out by Briar's loud wailing sobs.

Before Brock was a dad, holding a crying baby meant frantically looking around for a parent to hand the baby off to. Now he is the parent, though, and he half expects Elias to thrust Briar back into his arms. Elias, though, merely bounces up and down on the balls of his feet and winces when Briar screams right in his ear.

"She's very loud," Elias notes.

"Sorry," Brock says automatically. "She does this a lot."

Elias looks surprised. "She's so tiny," he says. "Where does she get her air from?"

Brock has often wondered the same thing. When Briar screams for almost an hour, he’s mostly surprised she doesn’t just pass out from oxygen deprivation. And then he’s immensely glad she hasn’t because he’s certain he’d go into panicked parent mode and become useless in the face of an emergency.

“Sorry,” Brock says again, for lack of anything better to say. He feels awkward, unsure of what to do. When he’d invited Elias over he’d imagined they’d spend a lot of time playing video games and going out on the boat. “I know that a baby probably wasn’t on your mind when you decided to come visit.”

Elias winces a little when Briar wails in his ear again. “Well, no,” he says. He turns a little, nodding back towards the house, and Brock leads the way back up the path to the back door. “But, I mean, it can’t really be that much harder than looking after Jake, can it?”

This, at least, makes Brock smile.

 

 

Unsurprisingly, Briar is hungry. Her half empty bottle is still sitting on the counter from their earlier cleaning spree, and it reminds Brock that he’s done a pretty bad job of feeding both his child and his guest. Coolie, at least, seems to be satisfied with his daily food intake.

“Do you want something to eat?” he asks over Briar’s crying. She’s not quite screaming anymore, but her sniffling makes Brock’s heart ache. Elias is bouncing around again, like he’s bopping along to some song only he can hear.

"Can you cook?" Elias asks, skeptical. He passes Briar over once Brock's got a new bottle of formula ready.

"Excuse you, I've cooked for you before!" Brock exclaims, nudging the bottle up to Briar's mouth.

"Sorry. Let me rephrase: can you cook better?"

It's sort of endearing how Elias' English is still developing. Every once in a while he words things in a way that makes Brock smile, amused. Usually, Elias punches him in the arm for it, but now Brock's got Briar. He probably shouldn't use his child as a human shield, but what she won't remember won't hurt her.

"How about eggs?" Brock offers, because he can guarantee those will turn out alright.

"Eggs are fine," Elias says, but he watches Brock as he cooks, holding Briar in such a way that she can look too. She's finally quiet and seems to be oddly fascinated by the sizzling eggs in the pan.

It feels -- nice. It feels like how Brock thought it would when he first invited Elias out to the lake: easy and fun and just them chilling and shooting the shit. He'd worried that with Briar things would be awkward, but Elias takes her presence in stride, like Briar has always been part of their day-to-day lives.

It does make Brock wonder how long it will last, though.

 

 

**[x]**

 

 

Brock keeps waiting for the other shoe to drop. He keeps thinking that one day he’ll wake up and Elias will demand all the answers from him, but it never comes. They spend the first couple days of Elias’ stay lounging around on the dock with Coolie and Briar, and one day out on the boat. Brock puts Briar in a tiny little life jacket that seems to completely swallow up her body. The noise from the boat makes her cry, so they drop anchor not too far from shore and sit around and listen to music.

After three days, Elias has a spectacular sunburn across his shoulders and Brock’s managed to find a pair of earmuffs for Briar so that they can take the boat out further.

“Not that I mind you being here,” Brock says, kicking his feet in the water, “but how long were you planning on staying?”

Elias is adjusting a large floppy sun-hat on Briar’s head. It was Brock’s mom’s, but the most important thing is that even though it doesn’t fit on Briar’s head properly, it makes for a pretty good personal umbrella.

"Mmm, I don't know, I guess," Elias responds. The hat is resting on Briar's shoulders, and she giggles in delight. "As long as you'll have me? I don't really have any plans."

Brock blinks a little. It's still early in the summer, when conditioning isn't such a high priority, but at some point Brock is going to have to leave the lake behind and go work out in an actual gym or something.

"You're training in Sweden again this summer?" he asks.

"Maybe not. My brother said our trainer had a family emergency in Stockholm. He doesn't want to commute a lot so he said if I find something over here, that'd be chill too."

"Oh," Brock says, suddenly feeling unsure of what to say. On the one hand, it's unfortunate that Elias' trainer is having an emergency but on the other -

Brock glances over at Briar. She's still got the sunhat on and she's crawling around the open space of the boat deck. He immediately scoops her up so she doesn't hit her head on anything, and glances down at where Elias is now sprawled out on the ground. Everything has been so much easier since Elias arrived. It's nice having an extra set of hands around with Briar.

“How long are you planning on staying at the lake?” Elias asks. He fans himself with his baseball hat, his blonde hair flopping awkwardly across the boat deck. “Like, do you have training plans in the city?”

Technically, yes. When Brock had come to the lake earlier in the summer he hadn’t known about Briar. He was due back by mid-July at the latest, and he had some conditioning exercises he was supposed to be working on in the home gym he’d set up in one of the spare bedrooms. He’s mostly not been doing anything, except go for a run once when his mom was still in town.

It’s fine. Brock figures that having to lift a 13-pound baby for several hours a day should count for some sort of exercise.

“I mean, I guess, eventually,” Brock says at last. He’s pretty sure Briar’s fallen asleep on him. “I -- I sort of had plans and then I unexpectedly obtained a baby so. Everything feels a little up in the air, I guess.”

It’s the first time they’ve ever really talked about Briar like this: where she came from, as opposed to her just suddenly being here.

“Well. Accidental baby acquisition will do that to you, I suppose.”

Something about the setting, about the words flowing out of Elias’ mouth, makes Brock crack. He’s 22 years old, sitting on a boat worth 100,000 dollars with his equally-as-rich friend, while holding a baby. Absolutely nothing about Brock’s life makes sense anymore.

“Aren’t you going to ask?” he asks, a little hysterically. In his arms, Briar makes an odd squeaking noise, and Brock hastily -- but carefully -- puts her down in her infant carrier. Squeezing his child to death would really bring down the mood.

“About?”

“Briar?”

Elias squints up at him, even from behind his sunglasses. He sits up and leans against the driver’s seat, sipping from his water bottle casually. Brock feels a little like tearing out his own hair.

“I didn’t think you’d want me to ask,” Elias replies, evenly. “You overshare everything, Brock. I figured if you didn’t want to tell me, there wasn’t much point in asking either.”

Brock’s -- not entirely sure if he should be offended by Elias calling him out on oversharing, or if he should just skip to the part where Elias is right about him probably not saying anything about Briar if directly asked. There’s part of him that still feels panicky and afraid of being judged, but Elias has proven that he doesn’t care where the baby came from. He’s just happy to have her here.

“I mean -- well -- yeah. _I guess_ ,” Brock says petulantly. Elias grins.

“But if I ask now, will you tell me?”

“... Yes.”

Elias hums and tips his head back against the chair behind him. His sunburn on his shoulders is a wicked red colour, but there are traces of a tan starting to appear on the rest of him. He’s still in the process of picking up all the weight he lost during the season, but Brock likes how solid he still looks. His mouth suddenly feels incredibly dry.

After a few moments of silence, Brock grows impatient. His knee bounces and his fingers twitch. Finally, he blurts out, “Well? Aren’t you going to ask?”

Elias tips his head back up, slow smile spreading across his face. It’s hard to see what his eyes are doing behind his stupid tinted sunglasses.

“Nah,” he says easily. “Not today.”

 

 

Brock’s mom FaceTime’s him on day four of Elias’ visit.

“Where’s my grandbaby?” she asks as soon as Brock answers the call. She moves her head around, like she’ll be able to see more than what Brock’s front-facing camera is allowing.

“With Elias,” Brock replies. “I’m trying to make us lunch.”

“Are you making tuna salad sandwiches?”

Brock frowns down at the cutting board where he’s got pieces of bread laid out with tuna salad spread on them. “And what if I am?”

“Nothing, nothing,” his mom says immediately, but she’s got a weird, knowing smile on her face. “Glad to see you’ve expanded your culinary horizons since middle school, sweetie.”

From the other room, Elias cackles, which in turn makes Briar shriek. Brock pinches his nose.

“Did you need something?” he asks, propping his phone up against the toaster so that he can put the sandwiches together. He’s got a bottle of formula for Briar waiting on the counter with a dog chew for Coolie.

“Shouldn’t I be asking you that?” his mom asks. “I just wanted to check in on my son and his daughter, is that too much to ask?”

Her tone is playful, but Brock knows there’s genuine concern there too. It’s hard to believe Brock’s managed to survive for over a week and a half without his mom helping him out. But the sounds of Elias and Briar in the next room remind him that he hasn’t been alone the entire time, at least. Not that Elias’ help equates to that of his mother’s, but it’s been better than nothing.

“I’m fine, Mom,” Brock says, finally.

“And Briar?”

“She’s alive.”

Brock’s mother rolls her eyes. “And Elias?”

“I’m fine, thanks,” Elias says, startling Brock hard enough that he jumps.

Brock’s mom laughs. “Hi, honey,” she coos as Elias fits his head into the screen, perching it on Brock’s shoulder. Brock can feel Briar squished between them, held carefully in Elias’ arms. “I take it you have my grandbaby?”

Elias grins and shifts so he can lift Briar into the frame. She gurgles, but seems generally unaware of what’s happening. Brock’s mother continues to make little cooing noises, which catches Briar’s attention, but Brock isn’t entirely sure if she knows it’s her grandma on the phone, or if she’s just intrigued by the moving picture like she is with the television.

As if not to be left out, Coolie barks from Brock’s hip.

They must make a strangely domestic picture: two men and a baby and a dog, Face-Timing Grandma so she can stay in the loop on the goings-on of a household she’s far away from. It’s kind of a weird thought to have; Brock’s never pictured himself in a relationship with a guy before, so he’s not quite sure where all these soft thoughts about Elias are coming from. His brain’s been steering itself towards domesticity ever since Briar showed up, though, so it’s probably a byproduct of having a baby.

The main point is: it’s nice. They eat lunch at the kitchen island, with Briar sitting in her high chair and Brock’s mom propped up on a potted succulent that Brock doesn’t remember buying. Sun streams in through one of the big bay windows and Coolie curls up in the warm patch on the floor. Everything feels perfect, and for one brief moment, Brock thinks, _I could get used to this._

 

 

**[x]**

 

 

Things settle into a strange sort of rhythm. Brock’s used to routine, and he’d been forming one before Elias came, but it’s easy to add Elias into the swing of things too.

Briar mostly sleeps through the night, so Brock wakes up early and gets a bottle ready for her. He fills Coolie’s food dish and then lets the dog outside. Puts the coffee maker on. Cleans up any messes he and Elias may have left out the night before.

Elias comes downstairs not too long after. Most of the time, he has Briar with him, but he hands her over to Brock to get started on breakfast. Elias makes eggs and sausages and toast, not unlike the way Brock does, but they seem -- tastier. Maybe it’s just because Brock doesn’t have to make them for himself.

He loses track of the days. As things tend to do in the summer, time seems to blend together, until Brock can’t quite remember how long it’s been since Elias arrived. A week, maybe. And even longer since his mom went back to the city. She still calls often, but not as much now, as if she can tell that Brock’s not sinking in a lifeboat anymore and has an actual sort-of grasp on the whole parenting thing.

Which is why it’s maybe a bit of a surprise when Brock gets a phone call from someone that’s not his mom.

“Brock, hey,” says the voice on the other end, and Brock has to take a minute before he can place it as Shawn, his trainer in Minneapolis.

“Hi,” Brock replies. He’s currently bouncing Briar on his hip while simultaneously reading up on how to start introducing solid food into her diet. His pediatrician had told him over the phone that he can start looking it anytime after Briar turned four months old, but Brock’s mostly been putting it off because there seems to be so much to consider. What kind of foods should he feed her? Is she even ready to consume solid foods yet? How mushed up does a mushed up banana need to be before it’s safe to give to his child?

“How’s it going?” Shawn asks, completely oblivious to Brock’s internal monologue and subsequent crisis. “Still up at the lake?”

“Uh, yes,” Brock replies. Briar makes a cute babbling noise, as if she’s talking on the phone too. She’s looking around the kitchen -- searching for Elias, probably. He’d volunteered to take Coolie down to the dock to play, and Brock’s been trying to occupy Briar since; it’s not lost on him that Elias has quickly turned into Briar’s favourite person.

“Okay, well, have you thought about coming back to civilization anytime soon? I’m starting to fill up time slots, so I thought I’d check in and see if you wanted in again, or if you were doing something else this summer.”

Right. Training. And the upcoming hockey season. It sometimes baffles Brock that the world continues to spin on its axis when his own little space in reality seems so different than every summer before. Brock thrives on routine, and Briar’s thrown his massively.

“Oh, uh, yes. I’d like to. Honestly, I’ve sort of lost track of time a bit,” Brock says. Briar makes a gurgling noise and mashes her nose into Brock’s shirt.

“Okay, cool. I’ve got a 2:30 slot open, if that’s alright?”

Not too early, not too late. Brock could probably get his mom to babysit for him for a couple hours in the afternoon. No big deal.

It’s at that moment that Elias wanders in through the back door. He shuts the screen before Coolie can follow him, dripping wet and panting happily. Elias looks half as wet as the dog, but equally as happy. It makes Brock pause for a moment.

"Shawn," he says, listening to the low hum on the other end that indicates his trainer is listening. "Could I bring a plus one to that time slot?"

Shawn laughs and Elias quirks his brow, curious. It makes him look silly, and Briar laughs cheerfully. She waves her arms in Elias' direction, and Brock hands her over with a roll of his eyes.

"Sure thing, Brock," Shawn says. "See you in a week?"

"See you in a week," Brock echoes.

 

 

**[x]**

 

 

Elias readily agrees to train with Brock in the city, so they pack up the lake house and depart. Briar falls asleep minutes into the drive, and Elias isn’t too far behind.

Brock spends most of the 40 minute drive worrying. The thing about routines is that once they’re disrupted, it’s hard to get them back. Will Briar like living in his apartment? Will she miss the sound of the water on the shore? His apartment is nice, but what if it’s too crowded? Which reminds him --

“Shit,” Brock mutters, whacking Elias in the arm to wake him up. Elias makes a truly unhappy sound and glares at Brock from under the visor of his hat.

“What?” he asks, curling away from Brock’s hand as it continues to hit him in the arm.

“I don’t have any baby stuff at my apartment.”

“What?” Elias asks again, though this time he looks much more awake.

“My mom came to the lake with Briar. I don’t have anywhere for her to sleep once we get home.”

Elias looks at him with wide, judgemental eyes. It’s the first time he’s ever openly been so surprised at Brock’s lack of parenting skills. He turns in his seat a little, glances over his shoulder at Briar’s car seat.

“Briar,” he says quietly. Coolie perks up. “Want to have a sleepover at Grandma’s?”

 

 

They go to what Brock can only describe as an incredibly bougie baby store. He’d ordered most of Briar’s lake house stuff from Amazon, so walking into an actual brick-and-mortar store to find hipster-looking bassinets is out of his depth. Elias looks pleased, though: he pokes around at various stuffed animals, and listens intently to a sales associate that comes by to tell him all about the fancy oak crib he’s looking at.

“Dude, she’s only going to sleep in it for the next month and then I’m going to have to buy a new one when we go to Vancouver,” Brock says when he looks at the price tag. “I’m not buying her a 3000 dollar bed. That costs more than my mattress.”

Elias glances at him. “Don’t you want what’s best for your child?” he asks, deadpan. Brock groans.

They settle on a more reasonably priced crib and another army of stuffed animals as a compromise.

“No, she doesn’t need more rabbits,” Brock says, putting one of the new bunnies in their basket back on the shelf. “We don’t need to create competition for Softie Bunny.”

“But look at how cute this one is!”

“Then you can buy it with your own money and keep it at your house, if you want,” Brock says, exasperated. He pulls another rabbit out of the basket and shakes it at Elias. “We don’t need this one either.”

Elias pouts. It’s the only way Brock can think to describe the look on his face. He wonders if Elias learned it from Briar.

“No more bunnies,” he says, and hurries off to the cash register to pay before Elias can dump anymore rabbits in the basket.

 

 

Despite Brock’s earlier panic, they build new routines, and before long Brock is so in the swing of things that he can’t remember what his old routines were. It feels like he’s always had Briar and Coolie underfoot, and Elias in his peripheral vision, which should feel weirder than it does.

Bo points this out when he calls Brock to make sure that he’s still alive, likely out of captainly duties more than any actual sense of care.

“You mean, Elias just -- stayed?” Bo asks. “With you?”

“Excuse me, what’s that supposed to mean?” Brock says, toeing at a stuffed tiger lying on the ground. The house is quiet for a moment, with Elias, Briar, and Coolie outside. “Why wouldn’t he want to stay with me?”

“Well, I mean. You two have completely different summer vibes going on. Elias actually has a fashion sense. What have you got going for you?”

_A baby,_ Brock thinks, but does not voice aloud. He’s not sure why he’s still hesitant to tell any of the others about Briar. Maybe because the bubble that he’s living in feels so nice still; it’s slowly deflating, but Brock wants to hold onto it for as long as he can. There will be a time to face the music -- and his teammates -- but that time doesn’t have to be now.

“I’m not sure you can call those round tinted sunglasses of Petey’s _fashionable_ ,” Brock says instead, letting the conversation dissolve into half-hearted chirps about how poorly everyone on their team dresses.

After he hangs up, Brock wanders out to the backyard to see what everyone’s up to. Briar has flopped herself over Coolie’s back while Coolie chews happily on a squeaky toy. Every time the toy squeaks, Briar cheers happily.

Elias is sitting nearby, fiddling with his phone. He glances up at Brock and smiles, something soft and a little sleepy looking, like all the time in the sun is exhausting.

“What’s up?” he asks. Briar startles a little, turning and sliding down Coolie’s side in the process. It makes Brock laugh.

“Just Bo,” Brock replies, scooping his daughter up and kissing her cheek. Briar screams in delight.

“And what does our captain have to say?”

Brock thinks back about the conversation, about all the things that were and were not said. “Do you think it’s weird that I haven’t told anyone else about Briar yet?” he asks, instead of answering Elias’ question.

Elias squints at the two of them, tilts his head to the side the same way that Coolie does when he’s pretending he doesn’t understand any commands Brock gives him.

“I mean, I guess,” Elias says slowly. “But, like. It’s kind of a big deal. I’d be nervous to tell people too. Everyone’s ready whenever.”

“Everyone’s ready whenever,” Brock echoes with a bit of a laugh.

Elias huffs and flops onto his back. His hair isn’t gelled, so it fans out around him, like some spikey, straw halo. Brock snaps a picture before he can think better of it; Elias gives him the death stare in return.

“You know what I mean,” he says, waving his hand around. “If you want to tell the guys over the phone, that’s cool. If you want to tell them when they come over for the first time and find out you have a baby, that’s cool too.”

The sarcasm is evident in Elias’ voice, and Brock tries not to cringe at how his inadvertent cowardice had led to Briar and Elias’ surprise meeting. When he looks at Elias, though, Elias is smiling at him fondly, like it’s all water under the bridge.

“Okay,” Brock says, feeling only slightly reassured. It’s not really the answer he was looking for but -- it’s nice to hear. It’s nice to know that his indecisiveness is backed up. He settles into the grass, cradling Briar in his arms, and letting the late afternoon sun seep into his skin.

 

 

**[x]**

 

 

Parenting, Brock thinks a week later, is not that hard. Or -- it is hard, but it’s not quite the horror story he thought it was going to be. Granted, by the time he got Briar she was already mostly sleeping through the night, but for the most part, Brock’s had a pretty easy time with her. Now that she’s gotten used to him -- and Elias -- there’s considerably less crying, and there’s a lot more babbling. Briar spends a lot of time on her tummy, smacking whatever is within her grasp, and shrieking happily. Brock catches her more than once with Coolie pinned under one of her chubby hands.

Plus, it helps having a co-parent.

It’s not that Brock has started referring to Elias as a co-parent in his head but -- it’s not an inaccurate way to describe the situation. Even though Brock always protests that Elias is a guest, he still does more than he needs to with Briar.

“I can feed her,” Brock says the morning after their first day with Shawn in Minneapolis. His arms feel like noodles, and Elias must be able to tell.

“It’s fine,” Elias says, bouncing Briar lightly while she gulps from her bottle. “You can change her later.”

It’s an unappealing trade, but one that doesn’t require Brock to lift his arms very much.

Or Brock will fall asleep on the couch at night and when he wakes up an hour later, Elias has put Briar to bed and has come to the living room to finish the movie they’d started. Or he’ll spend time with Briar on the blanket in the living room, making weird faces at her just to make her laugh.

So. Co-parent.

And it’s probably a good thing that Brock has a co-parent, because Brock very quickly learns that -- as he suspected -- he’s not a very useful person in a crisis.

The first thing that Brock registers is the ear-splitting shriek, and then the barking that follows. He’s in the kitchen, and he swears he just put Briar down on the floor _for a moment_ and --

There’s blood on the floor.

Briar’s crying in a way that she hasn’t since Brock’s mom left that first week, and she’s waving her arms around in a way that Brock can only describe as distressed. She’s lying on her back, Coolie hovering over her anxiously, and that’s when Brock notices the edge of the cabinets. The pool-noodle-less edge that Briar must have hit her head on.

“Oh my gosh,” Brock says, scooping Briar up despite her squirming. “Oh no, oh no, oh no.”

Every single rational thought exits Brock’s brain. It’s like time slows to a stop. Is he supposed to call 911? Drive to the hospital himself? Does the emergency room even take babies? They must. They have to. Babies have emergencies. Like Briar. Definite emergency --

“Why is she crying so much?” Elias asks, stepping warily into the kitchen. “I haven’t heard her scream like this since -- “

“Blood,” Brock says, amidst all the panic. “Help.”

Elias crosses the kitchen in three quick strides and examines Briar’s head. He takes a kitchen towel and presses it against her wispy blonde hair and says -- above Briar’s screaming -- “If it hasn’t stopped in another minute, we’ll take her to emergency.”

Brock nods his head and tries to stay still, tries to keep Briar calm and not step on Coolie, who’s weaving between their legs. Elias hums under his breath, a soft thread of sound that Brock can just barely hear over his child. If possible, time seems to move even slower.

When Elias removes the towel, the bleeding has stopped. Brock can see a small mark where Briar had hit her head on the corner of the counter, barely noticeable besides how it’s still a bit red. The screaming has been reduced down to ordinary crying, and Brock gently cradles his daughter close to his chest and tries to remember how to breathe.

“It’s okay,” he murmurs, rubbing his thumb against Briar’s side. “It’s okay. You’re going to be okay.”

It’s not until later, when Briar’s calmed herself enough to sleep, that Brock lets Elias convince him to take a nap as well.

“Yeah, but -- “

“Brock, she’s going to be fine if you take a nap for half an hour,” Elias says, nudging Brock towards his bedroom.

“Well, I know, but -- “

“I can look after her if she wakes up. Don’t you trust me?”

There’s a teasing tone to Elias’ question, but Brock feels bad anyway. Of course he trusts Elias. He trusts Elias more than anyone else, at this point, but --

“I know it’s scary, because it’s Briar and she’s your daughter, but you need to rest. You’re running on empty, and then you’ll be even less useful if something actually does happen.”

It takes Brock a moment to register the insult. “Hey,” he protests, but by this point they’ve made it to the bed and Brock is letting Elias push him onto the mattress. Brock’s always associated the action with more strenuous activities in bed, but it feels nice to hit the sheets with the intention of sleeping. His sleep-deprived brain doesn’t mind the way Elias stands over him, either.

“Just. Rest. Seriously. Coolie and I will take care of everything,” Elias murmurs, stealing Brock’s attention away from his thoughts.

Brock eyes his dog suspiciously.

“Fine,” he mutters, rolling over and smashing his face in his pillow. “But just, like, 20 minutes or something.”

“Sure,” Elias says, ushering Coolie out of the room and closing the door behind him.

 

 

When Brock wakes up, the sun has gone down. Definitely longer than a 20 minutes power nap, he thinks grumpily. His whole body seems to hurt when he rolls out of bed, like he spent the day drinking instead of worrying anxiously about the state of his only child.

Brock blinks against the light when he opens the door. Elias has left the hallway light on, either by mistake or for Brock, and Brock lets himself stumble down the hall until he gets to the living room where it’s blessedly dark again.

The TV is on and it’s playing some Marvel movie that Brock’s certain he’s watched a thousand times before. He notices the subtitles flickering along the bottom of the screen, and the way Elias’ head bobs along as he reads them.

“You should learn another language,” Elias murmurs, and for a second, Brock thinks he’s the intended audience. But then he notices Briar, cradled in Elias’ arms and watching the television with quiet curiosity. “All your friends at school would be jealous. Mine were when I started learning English, even though I wasn’t very good until I came here.”

Brock knows he should probably let Elias know he’s there and can take Briar, but something holds him back. It feels like he’s stepping in on a private moment, even though it’s just Elias talking.

“If you learn Swedish,” Elias continues, “you and I can talk all the time. It’d annoy your dad a lot because he never bothers to learn any of the things I say to him.”

Briar giggles.

Brock’s not sure how long he stands there, but he listens intently as Elias keeps talking. Sometimes he narrates the movie to Briar, or explains characters. Sometimes he says things quietly in Swedish. He tells Briar how cute she is and how special she is, and Brock’s heart melts a little.

He’s about to creep back to his bedroom when he hears Elias speak again. This time it’s so low that Brock almost can’t hear him over the low hum of the television, but he just manages to catch Elias’ words.

“I love you, Briar.”

 

 

**[x]**

 

 

The summer drags on, and Elias stays.

It doesn't escape Brock how unusual it is. He catches Elias talking on the phone in Swedish a few times, likely talking to his family, but Elias never mentions anything about going home. They go to training in the afternoon and take Briar out in their spare time and make sure Coolie gets walked everyday.

It's nice.

But the further they delve into the summer, the more Brock starts thinking ahead. He's going to have to go back to Vancouver soon, probably earlier than he would any other year if only to set up a room for Briar in his apartment. But he'll need to find a babysitter for her, or a daycare, and a doctor. And --

Brock's interrupted from his thoughts by his phone ringing.

“Hey!” It’s Casey, one of Brock’s friends from North Dakota. Brock double-checks the caller ID to make sure. “Are you, like, alive?”

Brock shrugs a little and then remembers Casey can’t see him. “I mean, I guess. Why?”

“Because it’s almost August and I haven’t been to the lake once this summer!”

Brock checks the calendar that’s hanging on the wall next to the fridge. It had been a free gift the last time Brock had taken Coolie to the vet.

“And what would you like me to do about it?” Brock asks, but he’s just teasing. He knows what Casey -- and likely a few of their other school friends -- wants.

“Invite us up, asshole!” Casey shouts back, then cackles. “I want to go wakeboarding and drink until I can feel the wrath of my trainer from across the city.”

“Fine, fine,” Brock replies. “Call up the guys. I’ll text you the dates.”

Casey cheers, then cuts his own laughter short by asking, “Seriously though, why has it taken you so long to get your act together? Normally we’re up at the lake every weekend.”

The reason is currently taking an afternoon nap in her room, Brock thinks. He’s not sure where Coolie and Elias are, but they’re keeping quiet, which is nice. The whole apartment feels tranquil.

“Brock?”

Brock’s thoughts snap back to the conversation at hand. “Uh, just got busy with other stuff,” he says. He can tell Casey knows it’s a lie, but he’s grateful he doesn’t get called out for it.

It’s been so long since he’s had to think about lying about Briar’s existence. It’s been easy with his teammates, easy to brush off their texts with his normal emoji-ridden responses. It feels harder to lie over the phone about such a big life event. And unlike his teammates, Brock knows Casey will judge him just a little.

“Okay, well, un-busy yourself and get your butt to the lake!” Casey says and then promptly hangs up the phone. Brock stares at it for a moment before setting it down on the counter.

He finds Elias outside with Coolie, sitting on the balcony. It’s a cool view of the city, but it’s never been Brock’s favourite. It’s pretty noisy, even in the evenings, and he gets a little dizzy if he looks down for too long.

“Hey,” Elias says, tearing his gaze away from the game he’s playing on his phone. His character dies. “What’s up?”

Brock shrugs. “Do you want to go back to the lake for a bit before the season starts?”

Elias’ grin is shockingly wide. He looks excited, which seems to be a pretty uncommon expression for him. “Sure,” he says, petting Coolie’s head. Coolie wags his tail, like he too is happy to be escaping the city again. “When do we leave?”

 

After much deliberation, they leave Briar with Brock’s mom.

“Go have fun,” Brock’s mother says as he and Elias troop into her house with bags of stuffed animals and baby formula. “Consider it your last hurrah.”

“We’re going to the lake, not getting married,” Brock says, rolling his eyes. He doesn’t miss the weird look his mom gives him, or the way Elias trips over his shoes as he’s stepping out of them in the hallway.

“I didn’t say anything about getting married,” his mom says, then adds, “But please make sure Casey puts sunscreen on. He came home looking like a lobster last summer.”

“Casey’s ability to look after himself is not dependent on me,” Brock whines. The tone makes Briar giggle, and Brock quickly drops his bags to scoop Briar out of his mother’s arms and smother her face with kisses. He’s going to miss her, he realizes, even though they’re only going to be gone for three days. The realization hits him suddenly: he’s never been away from Briar for this long since she came into his life.

As if he can sense Brock’s sudden mild panic, Elias says, “She’ll be fine here. Your parents looked after her for the first three months of her life. I’m sure they can do three more days.”

“And we raised you into a somewhat respectable human being,” his mother adds, patting Elias’ arm in thanks. “You mostly turned out alright.”

“Yeah, any personality defects I’ll blame on Dad or something,” Brock says rolling his eyes. He gives Briar one last kiss on the cheek and then passes her over to Elias.

“Bye, honey,” Elias mumbles in Briar’s ear, kissing her temple and then placing her in Brock’s mother’s outstretched arms. His face looks a little red, but Brock chalks it up to the summer heat that’s still pouring in from outside.

His mom is watching them carefully, like there’s the beginning of a thought trapped on the tip of her tongue, but she doesn’t want to say it yet. For a moment, Brock thinks she’s going to say something, but instead she shoos them out the door.

“Go. Get out of here,” she says, crowding them down the hall and into their shoes. “I want to spend time with my grandbaby.”

“Okay, okay,” Brock says, patting his pockets for the car keys. “And you know now that we’re trying not to let her take a nap in the middle of the morning, right? Like, just after lunch.”

“Yes, Brock.”

“And she only sleeps with Softie Bunny now. Please don’t put more animals in her crib.”

“Yes, Brock.”

“And -- “

“It’s fine,” Elias says, frog-marching Brock out the door with a laugh. “Three days, remember? And it’s not like we’re going halfway across the country. The lake is, like, an hour away with traffic.”

“Okay,” Brock says. He waves at Briar, who waves back, and lets Elias take the car keys and push him into the passenger seat.

 

 

By the time they get to the lake house, Brock still has not calmed down. In fact, he’s probably worked himself up into more of a panic.

“Okay, but did we remember to pack Softie Bunny?” Brock asks, letting Elias load a cooler into his arms. “Like, I told my mom that Briar can only sleep with Softie Bunny, but did we _pack_ her?”

“Yes,” Elias says, stacking another box of miscellaneous food items on top of the cooler. “Do you think I’m stupid enough to _not_ pack Softie Bunny?”

“No, no,” Brock says, because between the two of them, Elias is definitely the level-headed one in this situation. “Do you think we packed enough clothes?”

“Three days,” Elias reminds him, shouldering all of their bags and a tote of Coolie’s things. “How many outfits does she need? Besides, your parents own a washing machine.”

“Yeah, but sometimes it’s just easier if you can change her into new clothes instead of having to go through the trouble of washing things …”

Elias lets the front door the lake house slam shut in his face.

But overall, as annoying as Brock is about everything Briar related, Elias calms each one of his fears. Yes, they packed formula and diapers, Elias reminds him as he pulls the pool noodles off the corners of the walls. By the time Brock brings Briar back here next summer, he’ll hopefully have proper corner guards up. Yes, they gave his mom the number of Briar’s pediatrician, Elias adds as they disassemble Briar’s crib and tuck it under the bed. It was taking up too much space in the bedroom.

By the time they’re done with everything, there’s no trace of Briar anywhere in the lake house.

“Remind me again why we did this?” Elias asks as he tucks a duck-printed fleece blanket into the storage part of the coffee table.

“Because Casey and the others don’t know about Briar,” Brock replies.

Elias hums and flops down on the couch. Coolie immediately jumps up to sit next to him, and Brock is only mildly jealous that both his dog and his child like Elias better than himself. “And is there any particular reason why you still haven’t told anyone?”

Brock bites his lip. It’s not like he keeps Elias updated with who he does or doesn’t tell about Briar, but Elias talks to their teammates too. He must know by now that they don’t know, and he’s probably sussed out that Brock hasn’t told anyone, really.

“I told you, I don’t want them to judge me.”

Elias blows out a frustrated breath. “You have to tell people some time,” he says. “You’re going to have to house Briar for at least the next 18 years. It’s not like you can keep her a secret for that long.”

Brock opens his mouth and then shuts it again. Finally, he says, “I know that,” but it’s not much in the way of the argument.

“Are you ashamed of her?” Elias asks.

“No,” Brock says immediately, because he’s not. He’s grown to love his daughter in the month that he’s had her.

“Then why are you afraid of judgement?”

Brock feels like he’s been backed into a corner. Elias looks at him with a steady gaze, like if he can make Brock squirm enough he’ll get his answers.

Maybe it’ll work.

“I’m not ashamed of Briar and I’ll never regret her, but she wasn’t intentional. And when people learn about how she came about and where her mom is, all they’re going to hear is _mistake_ , and that’s not fair. It’s not fair to either of us.”

Elias looks at him, a steady, heavy gaze. The corners of his mouth have turned down, and it takes Brock a moment to recognize the emotion for what it is: disappointment. The realization sits heavy and hot in his belly.

“Briar isn’t a mistake, Brock,” Elias says. “She was an accident, but she’s not a _mistake_.”

“Oh my god, sorry about my poor choice of words and self-expression,” Brock says, exasperated. “Look, just. Get off my back about this. I’ll tell the guys about her when we get back, but I’m not ready to tell Casey and the guys.”

“If you can’t trust these people you’ve known for years, what makes you think you’ll have the guts to tell our teammates?”

It’s such an Elias thing to say: blunt without judgemental intentions, but it makes Brock’s blood boil anyway. He’s about to open his mouth to retort when he hears knocking on the door and then Casey’s voice filtering down the hall.

“Bitch, we’re here!” he calls, moments before stumbling into view with their friends Andy and Ty following behind.

Brock gives a pointed look, but plasters a smile on his face to greet his guests. He doesn’t know what expression is on Elias’ face, but he hopes its not the Death Stare. But when he turns around again, Elias is smiling pleasantly and shaking everyone’s hands, doing a very good job of pretending that he and Brock hadn’t fought just moments before. Brock takes a shaky breath and runs a hand through his hair. It’ll be fine, he thinks.

 

It’s not -- bad. But it’s not exactly fine, either, and Brock knows that the others can tell.

The thing about Elias is that he holds grudges weirdly. He’s never outwardly emotional about them, but he bottles everything up and it makes him stiff and awkward in everything he does. His friends chalk it up to language skills, but Brock knows better now. He can tell how he’s annoyed Elias to the point that he’s drawn into himself, like if he shows off his full personality it’ll expel the anger pent up inside him too.

It doesn’t stop him from participating in all the fun activities that he and Brock never got to do the first time they were at the lake. Without Briar around, they’re free to take the boat out and go wakeboarding, or take the jet skis out. Or just sit around the deck and drink beer. Brock spends a lot of the day worrying about Briar, but he has to admit: this is pretty good too.

“So,” Casey says, settling next to Brock on the boat. They’ve got Elias out in the water, getting a crash course on wake-boarding from Ty. “Petey.”

“Petey,” Brock echoes, and it feels weird on his tongue. He never calls Elias by his nickname, or at least, not when they’re not with the guys.

“What’s up with you two?”

Brock shoots Casey a look. “What do you mean?” he asks. “We’re friends. Teammates.”

Casey shrugs, body dipping as Ty clambers inelegantly back into the boat. “We’re ready,” he says, oblivious to the conversation. Brock glances over his shoulder at Elias bobbing in the water and puts the boat in gear.

They pause the conversation for a moment, trying and failing to get Elias up onto the wakeboard. Elias is nothing but stubborn, though, and Brock listens to his friends as they tell him to _go, go, go!_ and then yelling at him to _stop!_ because _Petey’s down!_.

But like most things, Elias finds his groove, and once he’s up and stable, he stays that way.

“Don’t think you can get out of this chat just because you’re driving,” Casey yells over the engine. Brock tries his best to ignore him. “You’ve spent a lot of time with him this summer.”

“How do you know that?” Brock asks. He says it too fast, like he’s guilty of something. Which he’s not.

Casey rolls his eyes. “Shawn’s my trainer too,” he says. “Told me you brought a friend along, which surprised me.”

“I have other friends besides you dicks.”

“I meant that you brought a Swedish friend with you,” Casey says, petulant. “All my European friends go home for the summer. What’d you say to get yours to stay?”

_Nothing_ , Brock thinks, and then startles a bit from the realization. He’d never said anything to Elias about staying; Elias had just done that on his own. And Brock knows the main reason was Briar, but he can’t help but wonder: would Elias have stayed if there had been no baby? Would Brock have had to ask?

Why does it bother him so much anyway?

“I didn’t say anything,” he says, finally, more so to avoid Casey’s incessant pestering than anything else. “He wanted to stay, so he did.”

Casey eyes him warily, then glances towards the back of the boat, presumably to look at Elias. “And he’s only stayed with you all summer?”

“I mean, he went to Vegas at the beginning for the awards.”

“Right. Mr. Calder.”

Brock hums, though he doubts Casey can hear it over the motor. They cruise for a little longer before Ty yells at them to cut the engine; Elias let go of the tow.

“Look,” Casey says, lowering his voice as Brock cuts the engine. “I don’t know what’s up with you guys, but you should see the way he looks at you, dude.”

“And how would that be?” Brock asks. He’s proud of the way his voice doesn’t shake.

The boat dips a little, signalling Elias’ return. Ty and Andy hollering about how well Elias did. Brock doesn’t turn around.

“Like a sad puppy,” Casey finishes, before stumbling to the other end of the boat to join in the celebration. Brock takes a deep breath.

 

 

Brock’s not really sure why Elias looks like a sad puppy. It’s not like he’s the one with a secret love child and insecurities. Elias is perfect: Canucks rookie record breaker, Calder trophy winner, and darling of Sweden. He can do no wrong, Brock thinks.

But the more he looks, the more he notices. He stares at Elias through dinner, and through video games, and finally through the movie they put on after everyone’s tired of losing to Andy at Super Smash Bros. for the umpteenth time. Brock’s never seen Elias give up a competition so readily before, and he can’t tell if it’s just because Andy is just so good at the game, or because Elias isn’t in the mood.

“I want to go to bed,” Casey mumbles halfway through their movie. It’s some action flick that Brock hasn’t been following, too caught up in his thoughts about Elias. But Casey’s comment catches his attention because he realizes now something crucial: where is everyone going to sleep?

“I’ll fight you for the spare room,” Ty says to Casey, rolling over on the couch to try and pinch Casey’s thigh. Casey shrieks and promptly knees Andy in the gut.

“How about you two share the bed in the spare room and I stay out here with all my internal organs still in my body?” Andy wheezes, curling in on himself.

“What about Elias?” Brock asks, and immediately shrinks into the couch when everyone turns to look at him. “What?”

“He can bunk with you,” Casey says after a moment. “You guys are road roomies anyway, right?”

Brock wants to point out that they don’t share a bed on the road, but he doesn’t want things to be uncomfortable. Instead, he says, “Yes, but the point is - “

“ - You don’t want him to have to deal with Casey in his sleep, do you?” Ty adds, earning himself a retaliatory pinch from Casey.

“Fine, fine, just go to bed, you heathens,” Brock mutters, pulling himself up off the couch and stumbling down the hall. He can just barely make out the sound of Elias following after him.

“I can sleep on the floor, if you want,” Elias says, dropping his bag on the chair in the corner. He doesn’t turn around to face Brock, so he doesn’t catch the way Brock’s face contorts in confusion.

“Uh, no, that’s dumb,” Brock replies. “Why would I let you do that when I literally have a king size bed?”

Elias glances over his shoulder. It’s hard to see in the dark, but Brock thinks he looks relieved. “‘Kay,” he says, unzipping his bag to presumably look for his toothbrush. “Thanks.”

They get ready in shifts, which isn’t weird. As Casey pointed out, they’re road roommates, and Brock thinks they’ve got their routines nailed down to an art. He sits around and plays a game on his phone while Elias brushes his teeth, and then they trade spots. When Brock comes back out of the bathroom, Elias has situated himself under the covers, blearily looking at something on his phone.

Brock settles in, and Elias turns off his phone, and then they’re just -- there. Two guys. In bed together, one foot apart because --

“I’m sorry about earlier,” Elias says finally. His voice is hushed, like even though Casey and Ty are down the hall and Andy is in the living room, they might hear. “I didn’t mean to make you upset.”

"It's okay," Brock says, and realizes it is. "I know you're just trying to be emotionally supportive and all that."

They're quiet again for several minutes, just the sounds of crickets and the waves lapping along the shore to break up the silence.

"I just - " Elias starts, then stutters to a halt. Brock waits him out, the same way he has in hotel rooms across the continent. He knows Elias sometimes needs a moment to get his thoughts in order, to get the translation working faster. "I just don't want you to regret Briar. I would -- I would miss her a lot if you sent her back here during the season."

It feels weird, to realize something that's been in front of Brock the entire time. Hell, he's even heard Elias say, "I love you," to his child. But it's one thing for the thought to sit in the back of his mind, and another to be faced with the reality that Elias has gone and attached himself to Briar.

And that that thought is a little scary.

Because it makes it real. Not that Briar wasn't real before, but now. Now there's another human being outside of his family that knows of her existence and loves her fiercely. Who would protect her from the world and love her as much as Brock does. It's just. It's so big.

"You care about her a lot," Brock says quietly.

"Brock, I wouldn't have changed all those diapers or gotten up with her at three AM if I didn't."

"Yeah, but you did those things before you knew her, too."

Elias takes a shuddering inhale. Brock feels it when he lets it out again.

"I guess I care a lot about you too."

It’s the way he says it that hits home. Brock’s tossed around “I love yous” and variations of affectionate phrases with all his friends, but he hears something different in Elias’ tone. Sincerity, perhaps. Depth.

It’s not really something Brock’s ever thought about before. Like, maybe the odd appreciative thought about Elias’ face or his body, but nothing ever … serious.

“Elias,” Brock says, and he dislikes immediately how cautionary it sounds. How detached and cold it makes him feel.

“It’s fine,” Elias says immediately. There’s a slight waver to his voice. “Just -- don’t worry about it, okay? But, um, I think I might go back to Sweden after this. I have to pick up some stuff. But I’ll see you back in Vancouver.”

It feels like too much, like things are moving too fast. One moment they’re making up and having a moment and the next Elias is metaphorically running out the door. It makes Brock’s head spin and his heart hurt, but he doesn’t know how to fix it. So he says, “If you’re sure,” and tries not to frown at the way Elias whispers back, “I’m sure.”

 

 

“I thought you would’ve fixed things,” Casey whispers the next morning, kicking Brock under the table. The others are in the kitchen, making a valiant attempt at breakfast. “You’ve made things worse. How is that even possible!”

Brock grunts and drops his head on the table. That morning, Elias had already been gone when Brock had woken up, and for a brief moment Brock had lain in bed worrying that Elias had just -- left. That he’d left in the middle of the night. But he’d been in the kitchen with a cup of coffee when Brock had stumbled out of bed, which had only soothed Brock’s worry for a moment. Elias wouldn’t look at him, and whatever mask of indifference he’d on the day before had crumbled.

The mood in the house was decidedly less happy than the day before.

“Seriously, just, shut up,” Brock mumbles into the table. Casey kicks him again under the table, but ceases his bullying when the others come in with plates of toast and eggs. At least this is normal still.

But Elias feigns ill for the day, slinks back to Brock’s bedroom while the rest of them head out on the boat. And it’s not that Brock doesn’t enjoy spending time with his friends, especially the ones that he doesn’t see for eight months of the year but --

“You’re moping,” Ty says once they’ve dropped anchor somewhere in the middle of the lake. “And Elias is moping too. What did you do?”

Brock groans. “I didn’t do anything!” he says, which just makes Casey nod.

“Exactly. You didn’t confess your undying love for him, so now he’s sad.”

Which. What?

“Why would I confess my undying love for him?” Brock asks, turning around in his seat and frowning. His friends mirror his expression.

“That’s -- that’s what you’ve been hiding from us this summer, right?” Andy asks after a long moment. “At first we thought it was an actual relationship with Elias, but we took two steps into the house and realized you definitely didn’t have your shit together.”

“So then we just figured you spent the summer having a gay panic and wanted to tell us in person that you like dudes,” Ty finishes.

Brock physically feels his mouth drop open in surprise. “What?” he asks. “No, that’s -- that’s not what’s happening here? What?”

Casey looks at him dubiously. “You spent the whole summer with him.”

“So? Sometimes I spend the whole summer with you losers but I’m definitely not in love with you.”

“Yeah, well, this summer we didn’t hear a word from you until Casey called you,” Ty points out.

Brock can blame that entirely on Briar, he’s sure. His social life definitely took a seat on the backburner for his child, and he probably wouldn’t have done much of anything if Elias hadn’t been there.

“That’s not equivalent to me being in love with Elias!” Brock shouts. He’s glad they’re out in the middle of the lake and therefore, out of Elias’ earshot.

His friends eye him wearily. “Are you -- have you really never thought of him that way?” Casey asks after a moment. “Or, like, any dude that way?”

"No!" Brock exclaims automatically. But when his friends cast him judgemental looks, it makes Brock pause.

He doesn't think -- he can't remember any particular guy that's stood out to him in the past. Not the same way girls have. He's never longed for the touch of another man, never felt that burning desire to be with one. It’s always been girls for him: their long hair, and their petite figures, and the pretty faces they make at him from across the bar.

But with Elias? Brock bites his lip. Elias isn't unattractive. He's not the most beautiful man Brock has ever seen, but there's a cuteness there, a softness that most people don't see.

Brock doesn't spend time with Elias because he's cute, though. Elias is more than his looks and his hockey skills. He's funny and honest and humble. Plus, he's great with Briar; he must be her favourite person by now.

Do all those thoughts equate to a crush? Does considering Elias his co-parent make things a little gay? Does he theoretically like all men or just Elias?

"No?" Brock tries again, but it comes out sounding quieter and more unsure.

"Are you having a crisis about this?" Casey asks carefully. "We didn't mean to freak you out."

"Uh, well, consider it a mission failure," Brock says. "I'm officially a little freaked out."

It's not so much that he's freaked out about liking guys, he thinks. It's more -- the suddenness of it all. The fact that five minutes ago he hadn’t really given much thought to guys in a romantic capacity and now he’s considering how he may or may not have been in a gay relationship with Elias all summer. It just feels like a lot to take in during a very short period of time.

But the idea of Elias … is not exactly unappealing, and Brock tentatively voices this out loud.

"You've grown up a lot this summer, Brocky," Ty adds, a hint of a smile on his face. "Any other big revelations you'd like to share?"

Brock thinks back over the summer, of every conversation he's had with Elias about telling people about Briar. He's scared to be judged, and he's scared of the stigma that will attach itself to Briar for the rest of her life. But if he can't tell these guys, some of his best friends, who can he tell?

"I have a baby," he says.

 

 

Answering everyone's questions is a lot easier than Brock thought it would be. He tells the guys about how his mom had showed up with Briar, and how Briar's mom is supposedly working on a cruise ship now.

"So you've just been chilling with a baby all summer?" Andy says, flopping back onto a seat. "And Elias."

"Yeah, well, no wonder he didn't want to hang out with us," Casey adds. "Think of the influence we'd have on that poor child."

"Can't let her near the trash," Brock says dryly, but it's nice to be able to joke about this. He feels like a weight has been lifted off his shoulders. It reminds him to call Bo when he gets back to Vancouver.

"Hey," Casey says, sitting up and looking across the boat at Brock.

"Hey," Brock echoes.

Casey grins, easy and carefree. That's always how he's been. "If I were in your shoes I would have been nervous about telling people about my secret baby too, but you can share those kinds of things with us, you know? I mean, like, you don't have to worry yourself so much about what we'll think."

"Let's be real, accidentally having a baby at 22 is probably not the dumbest thing that's happened to any of us," Ty adds thoughtfully, which just makes the others squawk.

"Speak for yourself!"

"Do you want me to bring up summer of 2011?"

"Don't you dare!"

Brock smiles and leans back in his seat. This is what days on the lake are supposed to feel like, he thinks.

 

 

When they make it back to the house, Elias is sitting on the back patio with Coolie, talking on the phone in Swedish. He makes some vague attempt at a smile when he sees them all traipsing up the back steps, but goes back to frowning at whatever the person on the other end of the phone is saying.

Casey and the others head into the house with the cooler, but not before they each shoot Brock a knowing look. Brock just rolls his eyes and tentatively takes a seat on a deck chair. He doesn't want to appear like he's listening in, but his Swedish hasn't really improved in all the time he's known Elias. At this point, the conversation is just background noise.

Brock's throwing a ball for Coolie when Elias hangs up, running a hand through his hair with a frustrated sigh.

"Everything okay?" Brock asks trying to pry the ball out of Coolie's mouth without getting his fingers bitten off.

"It was my brother," Elias says, in lieu of a proper answer. "He thinks I'm being stupid."

Brock shrugs. He doesn't have a brother. Just sisters, and he thinks they're probably more judgemental than an older brother would be. He says, "About anything in particular, or is just a general statement?"

Elias shoots him The Death Stare, and Brock laughs. The flip-flop of the state of their relationship makes his head spin a little, but at least Brock feels like maybe they're finally on the same page about things at least.

"He thinks I wasted my summer," Elias says, leaning back in his chair.

Brock huffs. "It's not like you slacked off," he says, thinking of the time they put in with Shawn. "You said you were looking for a trainer here anyway because your regular guy had an emergency or whatever."

Elias laughs. "I lied to you," he says, easy as anything, like the statement hasn't just shaken Brock to the core. "I wanted to spend more time with you and Briar."

The honesty in the second statement makes Brock’s chest feel tight, but it makes him feel a little brave, too. “Would you have stayed even if Briar hadn’t been in the picture?” he asks. Elias hums thoughtfully, then turns his head to meet Brock’s eye. He nods his head.

Brock bites his lip. It feels like there are several roads stretching out in front of him, and he’s not entirely sure which one to take. He settles on asking, “I didn’t know you were into guys?”

Elias shrugs. “It was never a secret,” he says, “but it was also never information I volunteered to share. If you had asked me I liked men, I would have said yes.”

“Did you know I was into guys? Because I’m not really sure if I do or not but you confessed to me anyway and that’s -- ballsy.”

Elias laughs again, but it sounds -- brighter this time. More normal, like the conversation isn’t draining him of his patience or his energy. “I didn’t know,” he says. “Especially if you don’t know. But -- I had hoped. Sometimes you look at me and I think, _maybe_. But maybe isn’t very much to hold on to. That’s why my brother thought I was stupid.”

“He thought you were holding out for something that wouldn’t happen,” Brock concludes.

Elias shrugs. “Yeah. I was only going to stay for a few days, but you looked so tired and miserable with Briar the day I showed up. And then after that -- I wanted to stay for her, too. I really like your kid, Brock.”

“Yeah, well, she’s just an extension of myself, right?” Brock asks with a smile, and feels warmth spread in his stomach when Elias smiles back. “Oh. I told the guys about Briar.”

“Oh?”

“You were right.”

“Sorry?” Elias asks, leaning swinging his feet off the chair so that he can face Brock properly. His smile looks mischievous. “I didn’t quite catch that.”

Brock rolls his eyes. He shifts so that he can face Elias too, his foot knocking against the slimey ball that Coolie managed to drop at some point during their conversation. Brock doesn’t even know when he let go of it. “You were right,” he says again, loud and clear. “Thanks, Elias.”

“No problem,” Elias replies, before kicking Coolie’s ball down the stairs.

 

 

**[x]**

 

 

For some reason, Brock had thought that once he patched things up with Elias, everything would be fine. He didn’t really expect Elias to actually leave once they got back to the city, even though it’s logical.

“I actually do have to collect some stuff from home,” Elias says. He’s bouncing Briar around the living room while Brock frantically looks for Softie Bunny in all the bags they hauled back from his mother’s.

“I mean, you have your gear and some clothes. What else do you need?” Brock says, exasperated, but he still hears Brock laugh over the sound of all the rustling he’s making sifting through the bags. If he can’t find that damn rabbit, Briar won’t sleep tonight.

“Maybe a winter wardrobe?"

Brock's hand closes around something soft and well-worn at the bottom of the tote he's looking through. With a triumphant shout, he pulls Softie Bunny from the bag. Briar claps delightedly.

"It doesn't get that cold in Vancouver," Brock points out.

"Yeah, but I'd probably want something other than denim shorts, thanks."

Elias looks unbearably fond, which Brock realizes is a look he's been sporting for most of the summer, like everything Brock does amuses him. It's like now that Brock is emotionally aware, he can't help but notice all these extra things.

On the drive home from the lake, Elias had taken several selfies of them -- or selfies of Elias smiling at the camera and Brock looking when they were stopped at red lights in the city. Brock doesn't know if Elias sent them to anyone, but it had made him realize that Elias hadn't really taken any pictures the entire time they were together, like he had known it would have given Brock too much anxiety earlier in the summer.

Elias had also been the more excited of the two of them to pick up Briar. He'd spent a good 10 minutes cooing at her when they'd picked her up, while Brock's mom told them all about the fun adventures they'd gotten up to in the last three days. To be fair, Briar had looked far more excited to see Elias, too, although Brock was pretty relieved when she smiled at him and smacked him affectionately in the cheek.

And now Elias is wandering around the apartment like he belongs here, kicking Coolie’s toys back into their basket to make way for Briar’s blanket on the floor. He knows where the television remote is to turn on background noise for Briar, and he knows where Coolie’s treats are in the kitchen when the dog won’t stop getting underfoot, looking for a reward for being cooped up in the car for even the short drive from the lake.

“What?” Elias asks, tossing Coolie his treat. Coolie snatches it out of the air, which makes Briar shriek in surprise.

“What do you mean?” Brock asks, coming over to take the baby from Elias. Elias pouts a little, but hands Briar over anyway. As he should; Briar’s Brock’s kid and he’s barely held her at all since they came back from the lake.

“You’re looking at me funny.”

Brock considers his facial expression, then laughs. “I’m smiling,” he says.

“Yeah. It looks funny,” Elias replies, his own expression now a mirror of Brock’s.

Brock takes a moment to soak it all in. If he squints just right, the apartment in front of him melts away to reveal his apartment in Vancouver. He can picture Elias in it, with Coolie and Briar and the laughter of their teammates. It’s a near future, one that Brock is going to have to dive into full force: there will be more shopping for baby necessities, and introductions with all his teammates, and finding a babysitter, and --

\-- and it’ll be fine. It’ll all work out.

“Can I kiss you?” Brock asks, surprising himself.

Elias raises an eyebrow at him. “Are you saying that because you want to, or because you think I want to?” he asks, though he doesn’t sound upset. Just -- wary.

“Because I want to,” Brock says, which is true. It’s something he’s thought about since that day on the lake with Casey and the boys, and the more he’s thought about it, the more appealing it’s become. “I -- I haven’t had as much time for it all to sink in, but I think I like you, Elias, and I think you fit into this family really well.”

Elias’ smile stretches, so wide that the corners of his eyes crinkle with happiness. It makes Brock smile wider too.

“Such flattering words,” Elias says, stepping closer, but being mindful of Briar in between them. “How could I turn down such an offer?”

“You don’t?” Brock asks.

Between them, Briar shrieks happily and claps her chubby hands together. Coolie weaves between their legs, tail wagging as he curiously noses around at their feet. Sunlight pours in through the windows, casting light on the disaster zone that is their half un-packed bags. It’s almost perfect.

Brock leans in, and Elias meets him halfway. Now it’s perfect.

**Author's Note:**

> briar cried a lot during the time that elias went back to sweden before heading off to vancouver. brock maybe cried a little too.
> 
> thanks so much for reading. your comments and kudos are always welcome :)


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